


Deeper Than Skin

by Jaelijn



Series: A Heart to Hold [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Asexual Avon, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 02, but no spoilers beyond Cygnus Alpha really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet evening on the <i>Liberator</i>, and Vila indulges in one of his hobbies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeper Than Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet to add to my series based on the headcanon that Avon is on the asexual spectrum. All instalments are enjoyable as standalones or in sequence. 
> 
> Vila decided to muse a little on intimacy and Avon's attitude towards sex in this, so there is a brief discussion of that in the fic, but as always nothing explicit. 
> 
> All titles of this series are inspired by lyrics of [Poets of the Fall](http://www.poetsofthefall.com/).
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Avon was reclining on his bed, engrossed in a digital reader, and Vila was Avon-watching. He never grew tired of observing Avon, no matter what the other man was doing. He suspected that not even Avon would have considered the activity an acceptable pastime but Vila wasn’t always inclined to listen to Avon and _he_ found it quite satisfying. Avon-watch could be in turns calming, funny, frustrating, or interesting. It was particularly rewarding when they were on their own and Avon’s defences came down.

Avon shifted, and the leg of his light sleeping trousers inched up a little further, revealing a bit more of the bare foot and ankle. The movement alone drew Vila’s gaze, but he didn’t linger on it for long. He’d learned quickly that Avon did not find it flattering when Vila fantasised about his body in a sexualised manner, didn’t much like being stared at at all. Vila was used to being unobtrusive in his observations, but he had pretty much stopped the fantasies out of his own accord since Avon had taken the mystery out of being naked around each other. It wasn’t that Vila didn’t find Avon attractive anymore – sexually, that was – or that they hadn’t seen plenty of each other in the _London_ ’s communal washing area; Vila had simply come to value the private encounters between them much more highly than any fantasy. It was real and it was _theirs_. Avon knew, of course, that nakedness held a different meaning for Vila than it did for him, but as long as it was shared between them, he had assured Vila that he could appreciate those moments just as much. Besides, he did find Vila attractive, aesthetically, Vila knew, never mind that Avon’s moments of feeling sexual attraction had been so few and far between for all of his life as to be negligible. When it came down to it, it made little difference to Avon whether Vila was naked or fully dressed as long as it didn’t impede their ability to be close. (Some of those surface clothes were so well padded that Vila couldn’t even identify whether he’d been hit or petted, which was practical in some situations, but extremely annoying in others.) Vila found it refreshing not to feel the pressure to get naked with his partner, as a matter of fact. He wasn’t insecure about his body, but he’d always held that his face and hands were his most attractive features anyway, and the _Liberator_ had some really nice clothes that weren’t really practical on missions or even on the flight deck. Like the feather light, shimmering black pair of trousers Avon was wearing now. Vila had found out very quickly that Avon was very good picking out things that would fascinate Vila if he set his mind to it. The black fabric was exquisite and expensive, and Vila itched to run his fingers over it, but that sensation would wait until they curled up together for the night. Vila loved being able to anticipate something nice. He was often enthralled by anything Avon only deigned to wear in private, and enjoyed dressing in something special himself – nakedness, which had been shared by so many people on the _London_ , wasn’t special at all by comparison.

Vila uncurled a little from where he’d folded himself into Avon’s side with his feet tucked under Avon’s pillow for warmth, and reached out to trace the arch of Avon’s foot with his fingertip. The foot jerked away, and Avon shook it slightly as if to get rid of the tickling sensation before he set it back down. Vila chased it and carefully moved his index finger along the height of the arch. Avon shook him off again, and Vila chuckled.

“What are you doing?”

Vila grinned up at Avon, meeting his eyes over the lowered reader. Avon was frowning, but his eyes were relaxed. “Ticklish?”

“Absolutely not.”

Vila snorted. “If you say so.” He traced a light circle around Avon’s ankle, and this time, the foot resolutely stayed where it was, though Vila could see Avon’s calf muscle tensing. “I like your feet”, he told Avon, “and your legs.” He ran his fingers a few inches up Avon’s calf, as far as he could reach without touching the trousers – they were still off-limits in his little game. Vila’s fingers made their way back down again, all the way down to Avon’s toes, one by one.

Avon sighed, and Vila stilled his hand. “Not today, Vila.”

“That’s all right, I don’t feel like sex,” Vila told him, and resumed his idle movements over Avon's skin.

 Avon wasn’t adverse to sex in general and they had done it a few times; it was more that the act generally lacked any of the fascination for him. Sometimes, he enjoyed the physical sensation, or enjoyed it for Vila. At other times, he found it utterly boring, and occasionally, his boredom would spill over to complete disinterest. Vila found it fairly easy to tell which it was at any given moment.

“I know you never feel like it when we’ve just finished a mission. This”, Vila tapped his fingers, “isn’t anything. I just like your feet.”

“I suppose I should be flattered?”

“If you like.” Vila rolled onto his back to look up at Avon properly. “There’s plenty of things I like about you, Kerr Avon.”

Avon’s eyes gleamed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “How lucky for me.”

Vila grinned. “Don’t you know it.”

“Why don’t you find something to read?”

“I’m busy.”

Avon arched an eyebrow. “Doing what? Watching me?”

“Hm. It’s called Avon-watching. It’s the most interesting hobby I’ve had all my life. Apart from picking locks, of course.”

 “Really? Perhaps you ought to have _picked_ someone more willing to fulfil your obsession.”

“I can go anywhere, open any door if I really want to. ‘s worthwhile if you know what you’re doing, and I do, if I say so myself. Can usually tell if there’s something behind the door worth sticking around for. Don’t like wasting my time, do I?” Vila glanced at Avon, gauging whether they were on the same page. Whether Avon realised that Vila wasn’t really talking about locks anymore.

From his smile, he’d understood Vila very well. “Good,” Avon said, and settled his free hand down where Vila could reach it.

Vila shifted and entwined their fingers. “Oh, and Avon?”

“Yes.”

“Just take the compliment next time, eh?”


End file.
